by Lynn Lorenz
"Did she? Didn't you think Stefan could handle the situation?" His eyes damn near twinkled at her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't think, sir, I just reacted. It was rash, and I disobeyed Inspector Bane's orders." She licked her dry lips and reached for a sip of water from the cup by her bedside.
"You did, didn't you?" Thatcher sighed. "You're too headstrong for your own good, Sarah. I guess you're used to giving commands, not taking them."
"That shouldn't matter, sir. I disobeyed a direct order."
He patted her on the arm. "Well done. Strictly off the record."
Sarah gave him a weak smile. "Sir, who was that woman?"
Thatcher regarded Sarah. "A woman Stefan knew a long time ago. For more, you'll have to ask him."
"Oh." That would explain a lot. A former lover, jilted perhaps, if she could read the woman's anger correctly. So, Stefan had a past after all, and a beautiful one, she noted with a sinking heart.
Did she think Stefan some untested youth? He was a warlock in his prime, a ranking inspector, powerful, and a catch for any woman.
"I don't understand, Chief. Waterford seemed to fixate on me. She thought I was his..." She shrugged as she lost her words. "Inspector Bane made it quite clear to the woman that I meant nothing to him."
"Did he now?" Thatcher rubbed his chin.
"And he's right. I'm merely someone he's training." She looked away to hide her disappointment. Damn it, she shouldn't be having these feelings, and she didn't mean to have them, but they just seemed to pop up unbidden, leaving her flustered and angry at herself.
"I'll leave you to rest. Take the day off tomorrow, if you need it." Thatcher rose.
"That won't be necessary, sir. I'm fine. I'll be reporting for duty as scheduled."
With a brief nod, Thatcher left. Sarah blew out her breath in a long exhale and sat back against the pillows.
Stefan must be furious with her. Once again, her rash actions had almost done her in. She should have stayed out of it, whatever was going on between them. She shouldn't have cared what that witch had said; he didn't seem to care. She certainly could have handled Cordelia Waterford better. She knew better than that. Damn it, she was better than that.
What had she been thinking? It was jealousy, pure and simple.
Sarah groaned, turned over in the bed to face the wall, and buried her head under her pillow. She'd had a catfight in the street with another woman over that damn man.
Now there was no telling what Stefan thought of her. In her mind, she ran through the list--disobedient, rash, impulsive, foolhardy, unfit, stupid, stupid, stupid.
She had to stay in the infirmary for another two hours. She thought of skipping out, but she'd already disobeyed enough orders today and didn't feel like a repeat of the embarrassment of admitting her failure to Chief Thatcher again.
With a soft sigh, Sarah got out of bed, picked up her wand, closed her eyes, and tried to 'port across the room. Nothing happened. She stared at her wand, inspecting its surface. No cracks that she could see. Damn.
She slumped back on the bed. "If I'm so powerful, how come I can't teleport?"
* * * *
Stefan 'ported into the darkened room and walked to the bed. It was after midnight. Sarah lay sleeping, her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, and the quilts pulled up under her chin.
Safe...for now. He'd failed her. If she hadn't defended herself, she'd be gravely injured or dead. His fists and his stomach tightened with that thought.
He walked over to the chair in front of the hearth and sat. He was tired. Carrying her all the way from Chester had almost been too much. He'd had to do it in two 'ports and the last one had taken it out of him.
Gazing into the fire, he relaxed, taking in the warmth of it. He stretched his legs out and leaned his head back. Fighting to keep his eyes open, he knew he should leave, but he wasn't ready to go. Not yet. Just to be near her was enough for him.
Holding her in his arms had been wonderful, even if she'd passed out after the first leg of the 'port. He'd arrived in the infirmary and refused to put her down until he'd brought her to a bed. Even as she slipped from his arms, the loss of her sapped the rest of strength from him. By the One God, she'd felt so good, her cheek against his shoulder, her breath on his neck.
He looked at her sleeping form. This had to stop. She wasn't his. She'd made her preference for Rolf clear.
He stopped fighting his exhaustion.
* * * *
Sometime, during the night, Sarah woke with a dry mouth. She sat up in bed and reached for the cup of water on her side table. The cup was nearly to her lips when she noticed she wasn't alone.
She knew him immediately. There was no mistaking those long legs, his tapering fingers resting on the arm of the chair and his profile against the light of the fire.
She slipped from the bed and went to him. He looked so contented, so calm. The thin lines of worry that marked his brow were gone. Sarah hovered, for a moment, torn between knowing she should wake him and turning around, going back to bed, and letting him sleep.
Kneeling next to the chair, she touched his hand. "Stefan."
His eyes opened and he turned to her. "Sarah...Patroller Tallow, I'm sorry, but I was..." he stammered.
"Well, if you're guarding me, you shouldn't be sleeping on duty." Sarah sat back on her heels. "I don't need a guard. Not here at the castle."
"Aye." He began to stand, when she held his arm.
"That woman, Cordelia Waterford. How did you know her?"
He settled back in the chair. "I owe you that much, I suppose. I met her a long time ago, when I was young."
"Were you in love with her?" Sarah searched his dark eyes.
"I thought so at the time, but it was nothing as noble as love, merely a young man's desire for a beautiful woman." He rested his head back against the chair.
"Why did she think you cared for me?"
"She wanted to hurt me, Sarah, to strike out at me. You just were in the wrong place."
Not the assurance she had hoped to hear. What had she hoped to hear?
"Of course." She took a breath. "Sir, I'd like to apologize for disobeying your orders."
Her hand rested on his arm, and he placed his hand over hers, but stared into the fire. His touch was firm and the heat from his hand warmed hers, sending that warmth to her woman's core. When he dropped his hand from hers, the cold rushed back in on her as if the flames in the hearth had gone out.
"I should leave, Sarah." He avoided her eyes as he stood.
If he'd only try, she'd let him kiss her.
"Aye." Sarah nodded. "I hated to wake you, you were sleeping so peacefully."
"Was I?" He tilted his head in question. "Good night, Sarah." And he was gone.
Sarah stood there for a moment and then went back to bed. She pulled the covers up.
His lips would have felt wonderful.
* * * *
Thatcher looked at Stefan, sitting backward on the chair in front of the desk, legs stretched out on either side. Shifting his eyes to Rolf, who stood against the wall, Thatcher cleared his throat.
"Let's go over the facts. Someone inside the castle tipped off Blackmoor to your trap, Stefan. Mercy gave us that much. Stefan, your short list?"
"Damn, Damon, whom do I accuse? Motives first, I should think. Who needs the money?"
"Who hates you?" Rolf chimed in.
"The short list or the long?" Stefan shot back.
"The short, please." Thatcher chuckled.
"Besides the criminals I've arrested and sent to gaol, we're limiting our candidates to those here or with connections at Avalon. I've been going over each man's records and can't place any names to tie to those I've dealt with." Stefan shook his head.
"Then we're back to the ones who just hate you." Rolf grinned. "The short list."
Stefan shrugged. "You'd have heard more talk than I, Rolf. Who are your choices?"
"There's Mathews. He's still m
ad at you for blocking his promotion."
"The man wasn't ready. He failed the test twice." Stefan waved him away. "But, put his name on the list."
Rolf cleared his throat. "There's Reilly, Chief."
"An inspector? I know he's new here and hasn't really fit in, but do you really think he's a candidate for traitor?" Thatcher motioned with his hands.
"I don't trust him, sir." Rolf glanced to Stefan. "Do you?"
"I certainly wouldn't want him at my back, and let's leave it at that." Stefan shrugged. "Incompetent, surely, but a traitor? He has much to lose. His father is important in the service, isn't he, Damon?"
"Aye. Commander Reilly has been influential for over ten years down at headquarters."
"I'd like to say that if he has ties to Blackmoor, it must be a very well-kept secret."
"Can't we just let Mercy do a quick scan of his memory?" Rolf ran his hand through his hair.
"And tip our hand? Or have to explain why we thought him a traitor?" Thatcher shook his head. "No. Until there is hard, cold evidence against him or anyone else, we don't move."
"Shall I begin working on it?" Stefan asked.
"No, Stefan, you're too close. I'll assign someone else." Thatcher stood to dismiss his men.
"Who?" Rolf pushed off the wall.
"I'm afraid that will have to be private knowledge for now, Rolf. It's better if neither of you knows who it is."
Stefan stood up and spun the chair right way around. "Just in case its one of us?" Rolf barked a laugh.
Thatcher looked over his glasses at the men and then sat in his chair. With a growl and a wave of his hand, he muttered, "Dismissed."
* * * *
"Line up, face the wall, put your heels to the mat." Sarah looked over her class. "You're going to learn how to fall down. Now, many of you may have mastered that skill at the tavern on chit day, but we're going to learn to do it without getting hurt."
The group laughed.
"Let me demonstrate." Sarah stepped to the mat and turned to face the wall. She rolled backward, her hands out to break her fall as she slapped the mat. She kept her head raised just enough to keep it from hitting the ground.
"Now, let's try it slowly. Roll backward. Don't sit. Hands out and slap the mat to transfer the force of the fall. Keep your head raised." She walked around the circle as the group practiced the fall.
"Your head is too far forward; you'll strain your neck if you keep it up."
"Let me hear the slap," she told another.
After fifteen minutes of the drill, she let them stop.
"Now you'll try the fall, as I throw each of you."
Sarah stepped to the first man and took him by the hand, her thumb locked with his, and with a twist of her wrist, she threw him to the mat.
"Slap the mat as you hit." Stepping up to the next man, she took him by the hand. He fell and slapped the mat with his extended hand.
"Good. Next." She worked her way around the circle watching each of the officers fall and commenting on their style.
"Each of you works with your partner. Pair up, please. It doesn't matter if you're mismatched in size or power. For right now, you're all on the same level."
The officers stood around the ring, this time on the mats and opposite each other.
"Good. Now, we'll try the same throw. Take turns as you go."
The group began practicing and didn't stop until each of them could throw and land with some skill. When the two hours was over, they were sweating, rubbing their aching muscles and muttering under their breath about their new instructor. Sarah had pushed them hard, but she knew this basic training was a necessary foundation on which to build later skills. Those skills would come hard and fast as she worked against the clock to get them ready. She wanted to give Thatcher a demonstration and prove to him that he hadn't made a bad decision in taking her on. After her fiasco with the Waterford woman, Sarah was sure his opinion of her had changed and she couldn't bear that thought.
As her students left the training room Sarah thought she was getting through to them. She didn't hide her smile.
* * * *
Rolf sat in the wing chair before his fire reading a book about a young half-wolf growing up in the wild and learning to survive. It was one of his favorite stories. Glancing up at the clock on the stone mantle over the hearth, he sighed. He'd be off-duty for the next three nights, spend his days on light duty, and catch up on writing his reports. There was never a lack of paperwork.
The anticipated knock on the door no longer startled him. Putting down the book, he stood. He'd already removed his pocket watch, its chain, and his family crest ring. The belt and holster that held his wand hung on the post of his bed. Wearing only a shirt and plain trousers, he opened the door, looked into Stefan's eyes, then looked away, ashamed.
"It's time." Stefan's deep voice was soft and somber. He held an unlit lantern in one hand and his wand hung at his hip.
Just as they had each month for the last ten years, the men walked in silence down the corridor to the great stairs, down to the lower level. Instead of turning left, they turned right, and slipped between the wall and the staircase. The space was just wide enough for a man to fit. When they came to a dead end, Stefan raised his hand and pressed a stone.
A doorway appeared. Stefan waved his hand before the lantern and the flame blossomed, illuminating a narrow set of steps leading down to the lower dungeon. They stepped through and stood on a small landing as the door slid shut behind them. Making their way down the narrow circular stone stairs, the two men hugged the damp wall.
At the bottom, a dank and shadowy hallway opened before them. Stefan led the way to a great, ironclad wooden door. His fingers made the signs. With both men pushing the heavy door open, they entered.
Rolf looked at Stefan. "About Sarah..."
"Subtlety works, it seems." He looked away at the wall, his jaw set.
Rolf looked at Stefan. He seemed tense this evening, or more tense than usual.
"Have you ever thought of killing me?" Rolf slipped the suspenders off his shoulders and then folded his shirt into a neat bundle on the floor.
"Only once." Stefan returned his gaze.
"It would be easy." Continuing to undress, he worked loose the buttons of his trousers. They fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them. "You could claim we were late, that I changed before you were ready."
"That you fell upon me and I had no choice but to kill you to save myself?" Stefan finished the scenario.
"You have given this some thought, eh?" Rolf laughed once, then grew serious. "And now, do you think of it again?" He folded his trousers, added them to the shirt, and walked over to one of the stone columns that supported the floor above. Reaching up, he tucked the clothing onto a high shelf.
Both of them knew the uneasy trust that lay between them. Thatcher had entrusted Rolf's secret to Stefan, and he had accepted it. They were brothers-in-arms, blood oath sworn. However, many a man had broken an oath over a beautiful woman.
"It's clear who Sarah chose. Your death would serve no purpose."
Rolf stood before Stefan, nearly naked, unarmed. The scars that marred his muscled body stood out against the tawny hue of his skin, occasionally interrupting the heavy smattering of the light brown hair across his broad chest. Some were merely scratches. Others looked like bites. Most of them were scattered over his back, arms, and legs. One long, wide scar slashed his right chest at an angle from his throat to his ribs, neatly missing his small, dark nipple.
Stefan curled up his lip in a half-smile. "If I'd wanted to kill a man over a woman, I'd have done it when I was on the dark path. I have no such desire, Inspector, not then and not now."
Rolf shook his head as Stefan began to leave. Just before the door closed Rolf called out, "You fool! It's not me she wants!" The room echoed with the sound of the door closing and locking, cutting off his words and sealing him inside once again.
* * * *
After a week of class
es and several new moves, Sarah finally let them spar.
"Let's see what you've learned. Best two out of three falls."
The group formed a circle around the edges of the mats and waited for her to call the first pair.
Sarah selected Niles Wilson and Sybil Hastings. Even with her long, blonde hair pulled back in a braid, she was small and beautiful. To Sarah's surprise, Sybil had taken to the moves well, and now she had a gleam in her eye that told Sarah she would not hold back.
Niles, good-natured as usual, grinned as he stood across from a very serious Sybil. Sarah wondered if pairing them was a good idea or if she was trying to force them together in order to rid herself of a rival.
Sarah blew the whistle and the fight was on. The two began circling, searching for an opening. Sybil kept her gaze on Niles. He feinted right, but his eyes said he was going left. Meeting him at the beginning of his move, she got her handhold and threw him neatly to the ground with a thud. Laughing, he stood up to try the next fall.
They circled again. She tried to dart inside his arms' reach, but Niles caught her by the waist, lifted her off her feet, and with his overpowering strength, took her to the ground.
He lay on top of her, pinning her arms to the mat. Niles's face softened as he stared into Sybil's angry eyes. When she failed to return his look, he rolled off her, red-faced. Standing up, he held out his hand to pull her to her feet, but she slapped it away and stood on her own.
"One more, to settle it." Sarah stepped onto the mat.
Sybil was breathing hard as they circled. Niles looked as if he wanted nothing more than to leave the makeshift ring.
She feinted, and he started forward. She gracefully stepped aside as he passed her and using his own momentum, she helped him on his way with her foot on his backside. He landed face first on the mat.
Everyone cheered as Niles picked himself up off the mat, bowed to Sybil and waved to the crowd. Sybil turned and flounced off the mat and back to her place on the sidelines.
Either Sybil was playing hard to get, or she wasn't interested in Niles. It was clear to Sarah that Niles was smitten. What was she thinking? She'd hoped putting the two together might forward Niles's cause, but if she told the truth, she felt threatened by Sybil's interest in Stefan. Sarah chided herself for letting her emotions encroach on her duties. It was none of her business. She called the next pair.